


What The Body Knows

by gleekto



Category: Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:58:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3095732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleekto/pseuds/gleekto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU -  Blaine is in highschool in 2002-2003. He plays the trumpet, sits on student council, and has a secret fanboy passion for Degrassi: The Next Generation. When Marco Del Rossi comes out on TV, his own life changes as he grows up, comes out, and grows into his own skin physically and emotionally. Meeting Kurt Hummel - the French horn playing track star -  is a fortunate bonus. Though it certainly does complicate things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

** Prologue **

Blaine runs. He runs until he is so exhausted that he collapses on his bed and falls asleep without thinking. 

It’s late in his sophomore year at McKinley, the night that he watches the episode of Degrassi where Marco Del Rossi—the stylish Italian guy with cool taste in movies—doesn’t want to kiss his hot and awesome best friend Ellie, and she wonders if he even wants to kiss girls at all. Marco doesn’t know if he does. And all Blaine knows is that he has to leave his friend Tina’s right now and move. So he runs circles around his neighborhood, away from Tina’s house,  past his own house, through the park and into the ravine, until everything is blurry. 

When he finally crawls into bed that night after a cold shower, he crashes. And in the morning he has math first thing, then music. And to limit any down time between school ending and band practice, he runs again. Around the school, around the track, up the bleachers, wherever his legs take him.

“Thought about joining track?” Blaine turns around to see a brownish auburn haired junior with searing blue eyes, standing in his track uniform and staring at him - Kurt, he thinks his name is. He plays French horn in band.

“Oh.” He’s caught. By a track athlete of all people. “You’re on track, right?”

“Yeah. And apparently you should be too.”

Blaine blushes which makes him feel even more silly than running in his oversized gym t-shirt and fire engine red McKinley shorts up and down the bleachers. He must look ridiculous. He is definitely not the sports team type. “I don’t think so.” He looks down, avoiding eye contact.

Kurt huffs and Blaine looks up to see the expression in Kurt’s eyes turn icy before he rolls them in contempt.   At Blaine. Inexplicably.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Kurt mumbles under his breath and then Kurt’s  walking away. Blaine has no idea what happened. And he doesn’t let himself think about it. Instead he runs faster than he did the night before. This time, away from school.  

He keeps running that week, every day after school in his ugly gym t-shirt and his shiny red gym shorts.  

But then next Saturday’s Degrassi episode is about geeky J.T. crushing on the hot principal. He doesn’t need to run anymore. He lets his life return to its usual.

**Chapter One**

So that’s how it all starts—with Marco Del Rossi.  There’s just something about that character - he’s quirky, but cool and stylish. He wears bandanas and he watches rep movies and goes to poetry readings with Ellie, an awesome goth chick who is dripping with intelligent sarcasm. Blaine admires that kind of sass even though he isn’t that biting himself.  Blaine’s a junior now, and it’s season 3 of Degrassi and at the end of last season, it was hinted that Marco isn’t straight. Blaine is cool with that, though he tries not to think about it too much, and Degrassi doesn’t bring it up too much. Until this week’s episode.  _Pride._

Blaine is sort of a secret fanboy. Of course he watches Degrassi - the show is a goldmine of teenage problems ripe for inspiration for papers for his media class or English class or health class - anorexia, teen pregnancy, the perils of sexting in a digital age, mental health issues from depression to cutting, alcoholism. So many research topics. So what if he quietly loves it? His best friend, Tina, does too. And they watch it religiously. 

And it’s this Saturday night when they're watching Degrassi that Marco Del Rossi comes out. Ellie won’t pretend she’s his girlfriend anymore. It’s time. Marco notices Paige's hot older brother, Dylan. Who is gay. And out. And now Marco knows it enough to finally say it out loud.

_Marco is gay. Marco is gay._  He hears Marco’s coming out repeat in his own head like a broken record.  _“I’m gay.”_

And there it is. The thing he ran from last year. The thing that is here now. Marco is gay. And so is he.  

Blaine is an honor roll student. He plays trumpet in the band, and has a seat on student council. He has a group of friends, always has someone to hang out with, and he gets invited to parties. Two of his best friends, Sam and Jake, have girlfriends but that hasn't really interested him and he never wanted to think about why. He'd rather pop popcorn and watch eighties movies with Tina any weekend. 

But the full package -  _Blaine Anderson for Junior Student Rep_  -  strangely and inexplicably never quite fit. Or maybe it just never felt complete. A mislabelled puzzle box - Like a fifty piece puzzle, but to really see the bigger picture you need another fifteen pieces. But no one tells you the puzzle is so much richer with the 65 piece version.

“Cool episode," Tina says when it's over and he's getting up to go. "Glad Marco realized what everyone else knew," she says nonchalantly, yawning as he gets up to go, but he can see by her face that the comment is innocent. "So we'll work on the French assignment tomorrow?"

Blaine smiles and grabs his stuff to leave. He is overwhelmed but he’s holding his own. He’s never said it to himself before, but as he sounds the words out in his mind - I’m gay - the idea becomes more concrete. It’s like an ear worm and he’s adjusting to the sound.  Instead of walking home, he wants to run. But not home. Not yet. He runs and runs through the streets and back and when he’s bored of that he runs to the playground and up the slide and jumps down and up the bleachers and over the benches, one after the other after the other. He runs until he is too exhausted to think. He’s only done this once before. He knows when it was.

His heart is still racing when he lies down on his bed. He’s scared because it’s huge but it’s also suddenly so simple. This time he can’t sleep. His mind is racing. 

...

When his alarm radio goes off the next morning, Blaine opens his eyes an d breathes out . Despite muscles aching from running too far too quickly without preparing his body, he feels light. His revelation is here now, right in front of him, and he’s ready for it. In fact, he wants it in a way he never really thought he could. This thing that he couldn’t name a few years ago, that terrified him when it started to gel  at the back of his mind  last year, is now a welcome relief. He wants to be gay. It’s not even that there is a real person – a guy, he can say that now – that he wants. Though he hopes there will be one day. He just wants to be a whole person like everyone else. And even if he hadn’t been doing it deliberately, he  _had_  been hiding from himself. And now he isn’t.

He figures the obvious question is how on earth he didn’t know.  He’s a teenaged guy surrounded by guys in change rooms, talking about girls and boobs and having girlfriends. Doesn’t he –  _you know_  – like all guys do? But in retrospect, it’s easier to trick yourself than you think. You never have to acknowledge that it’s the faceless guy in your head that’s making it work and not the barely-there girl. It’s been working for him for years.

The morning at school is blissfully unremarkable. Math, French, history. He eats lunch with Tina, Sam, and Mike and they laugh  hysterically  at Principal  Figgins’  well intentioned yet impossibly uncool speech warning of the woes of baggy pants worn pulled down beneath underwear and t-shirts that stop above the belly. Tina stands up and raises her arms, cropped t-shirt showing off her dancer’s body complete with belly button ring. “You must set an example, Ms Cohen Chang. What will the children think?” Sam mocks in the Principal’s Indian accent, which Blaine knows is so inappropriate but it’s still funny. Blaine whistles, and Mike quips, “ I know what I’m thinking.”  And Blaine wonders when  _that_  is going to happen for them. Tina just smiles.

Then there’s band practice – Blaine’s favourite period. He’s a first trumpet and he’s good and they play everything from classical to klezmer to re-worked pop songs. Mr. Cook, the music teacher and band conductor, is energetic and passionate and has almost certainly turned many a snobby hip-hop-only teenager into a multi-genre musician.  Blaine never had to be convinced, though. Music is in his blood and the energy of the harmonies of the whole band together has always left him breathless. When he arrives, much of the horns section is already there, warming up.  He sits down beside his stand partner, Santana, just as Mr. Cook asks him to run the warm up for the horns while he works with the woodwinds.

He asks the trumpets to run scales, followed by the French horns. Led by Kurt. There are three French horns and Kurt is by far the most talented.  Every band member knows that- Kurt gets the solos. But today Blaine _notices_  him. 

Blaine has always known that Kurt was gay but he had never really let himself think about it—he’s beginning to realize that he’s become an expert at that- not thinking about  _anything_. Kurt has been “the gay guy” on track ever since Blaine set foot in McKinley. When Mike or Jake talk about the team’s star long distance runner, it’s always, “Kurt – you know, the gay dude.” Blaine imagines that gets pretty tiring, and wonders if he’ll become “the gay trumpet player” or “the gay guy on student council”. Kurt’s a senior now, and a wicked French horn player, but Blaine doesn’t really have any relationship with him at all. There was that one time Kurt saw him running like a dork in oversized gym clothes, but other than that it’s all been band rehearsals, and they don’t even play the same instrument. Pretty easy not to think about. Only now, Blaine is also gay and he’s thinking about it. 

“Great scale, Kurt!” The overzealous compliment falls out of Blaine’s mouth before he realizes how ridiculous he sounds.

 Kurt side-eyes him, putting down his horn, “Thanks?”

“Yeah, I mean. Obviously it’s just a scale that we do every day so I don’t know why I said-” Luckily, at that moment Mr. Cook returns to gather the band together before he can ramble any longer. Blaine sighs in relief as he picks up his trumpet. He’ll just shut up and play.

After practice ends, he walks up to Kurt. Why shouldn’t they be friends? Just because he’s not ready to announce his sexuality to the world yet, he and Kurt obviously have other things in common - they’re good at music and they like running, even if Blaine isn’t quite at the track team level of fit. And he admits that it also might be nice to have someone who gets it when he is ready to come out. And he will be one day. So he tries again.

“Do you like the Ringmaster’s March?” Kurt turns and looks around making sure Blaine is actually talking to him.

“Yeah, I do.” He stops there.

“Your solo sounds great,” Blaine continues.

“Not really,” He answers, shrugging, “I just got it yesterday. It’ll be good by next week.” The pause is awkward.  “Anyways, gotta run. Track practice.” Kurt nods at him and walks quickly away.

“Okay,” Blaine sighs, slightly defeated. He’s had a good day and there’s lots of time to try to get Kurt to be his friend, or at least talk to him. 

Right now, he’s full of an excited energy that he doesn’t know what to do with, so he decides to run again. Run home. He’ll try again with Kurt tomorrow. 

Later that evening, Blaine’s muscles ache perfectly as the shower’s warm water rains down on him. He likes the way his body feels alive and pumping blood. He’s not used to it and he thinks he may run home more often. At least those days that he doesn’t have student council or an extra  band practice after school. He knows he doesn’t have the skill or the body to be a real athlete but he suddenly gets why people do it. It’s a rush and he feels strong and physical. And anyways, he  _is_  a little on the scrawny side and has a penchant for donuts - so he could probably use the exercise. 

He inspects his arms, watches as the water droplets land on his slightly developing biceps - they’re not  _too_  wimpy. He looks at his chest - wisps of dark hair starting to grow. He’s never really paid that much attention before but he likes it. He feels like he’s changing into something older, more solid. His eyes keep roaming downward and there’s his dick - is that the right word? Penis seems so clinical. It isn’t   hot. And one day he is going to see someone else’s dick, or cock, or whatever - and it’s going to be hot. The thought alone is waking him up down there, so he lets his hands roam and grasp. He’s a teenaged boy, this isn’t new to him. But thinking about two guys is. He closes his eyes, he pictures someone else’s hand around him. Maybe he’s taller than him, with a broad chest, maybe he’s getting peach fuzz hair on his chest like Blaine. But he’s a guy and he’s with him. He’s not pretending anymore. He bites his arm to muffle his sounds when he comes. It’s incredible.

When he crawls into bed that night, he wants to cry he’s so happy. Which is ridiculous considering the less than pure image in his head just minutes ago. But it’s true.

...

Blaine is standing in line in the McKinley cafeteria, pondering whether to go with the tots or the salad (if you can call iceberg lettuce with bright orange French dressing a salad), when he sees Kurt behind him. “Oh hey Kurt!” It comes out sounding too enthusiastic again. 

Kurt looks up quickly and makes brief eye contact. “Hey.” He nods curtly before turning his attention to the same dilemma as Blaine.

“I’m debating between the salad and the tots,” Blaine tries.

Kurt looks around again, again making sure Blaine is actually talking to him. “I usually get the salad.” He turns away. 

“Really?” Blaine asks and Kurt stares at him confused, “Because you’re on track and you’re obviously fit so a few tots won’t -”

“I like salad,” Kurt rolls his eyes and cuts him off, taking his salad and walking away. 

Blaine sighs. Getting to know Kurt is not going to be easy.   And really, he’s a track star senior, and Blaine is a junior on student council whose only impression other than being a decent trumpet player is awkwardly running in McKinley gym clothes a year ago. So there is absolutely no reason for him to want to talk to Blaine.

Tina walks up beside him towards their usual table. “Why the long face?”

“Oh me?” Blaine shakes it off, smile returning, “You know, it’s always a difficult decision salad versus tots.”

“Yeah,” Tina agrees, “And clearly you made the wrong one. Salad? Really Blaine?” The truth is that despite how much he loves the tots, he doesn’t want to feel too full for his after school run home. And those tots can sit in your stomach for hours. But he steals one from Tina anyways. “Get your own,” she knocks into him affectionately as she lifts her tray out of his reach and sits down beside Mike who has already made room for her.

Later that day when he’s helping Tina with her French grammar homework, he notices her obvious distraction as Mike makes his way down the hall in skimpy shorts and an even skimpier gym tank top, presumably on his way to shoot some hoops. “So,” Blaine looks at her meaningfully, “You and  _Mike_?”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Tina blushes. 

“Moi?” Blaine bats his eyelashes innocently. “Come on, Tina. It’s gotta happen, right?”

“Shhh,” She grabs his arm tightly willing his voice to a whisper as if Mike could hear, although he’s probably already in the gym by now. “But I don’t know. I hope so.” She smiles contentedly.

“Me too,” Blaine squeezes her arm. She’s his best friend.  She’s gorgeous, confident, and bitingly smart. But as far as he knows - and he thinks he does know - she’s never had a boyfriend before. Just like him. He smiles to himself.

“Well,” She lowers her voice, “He may have called me last night. To  _talk,_ ” Tina says meaningfully. 

“To talk, huh?” They both know that that means. 

“And what about you, Blaine? You’re hot, talented-”

“Oh stop, Tina. Whatever,” Blaine blushes. He’s not really anything spectacular. 

“Seriously,” She looks at him. “I’ve got to find you a girlfriend and then maybe we can double date!” She practically squeals in his ear. 

“Not sure about a girlfriend,” Blaine says honestly, but hopes it’s totally cryptic.

“You’re right. That’s overzealous to start. At least a date then,” She looks at him encouragingly and the comment seems to fly by without notice.

“If you find the right person, I’ll consider it,” Blaine nudges her playfully. “But you’ve got to go out on at least one real date with Mike first.”

“Deal.”

After school, Blaine quickly changes into his somewhat cooler than last year new running clothes. Well,clothes he deemed normal enough to be seen running in when he picked them out last night—an old, snug green t-shirt and cut-off sweat shorts that look at least slightly less dorky than McKinley gym clothes—and begins his run on the school field. The jog home is only 1.5 miles, so he starts here. There’s no track or any other sport team practice today so he’s pretty much alone save for the occasional students walking through the field towards the bus or their car. He gets bored after a couple of laps and starts hopping through the bleachers before he starts home.

“I wasn’t kidding last year when I said you should join track, you know?”

Blaine almost trips over the bleacher he’s leaping over, when he turns around towards the voice that is unquestionably Kurt Hummel. Who is voluntarily talking to him. He wills himself to play it cool. Or at least cooler than he has been lately.

“Oh, hey Kurt.” Well, that was a reasonable start. “Thanks. But I’m not really the athletic type. I just started doing this for fun or to keep fit or whatever.”

“That’s what I used to say.”

“What?”

“That I wasn’t the athletic type.” Kurt smiles and does a ninja like kick in a way that Blaine can only describe as adorable. Kurt looks down awkwardly smiling, “Athletic, not exactly badass.” He’s blushing. Definitely adorable.

“Kind of badass?” Blaine hopes it isn’t too much or too friendly, that Kurt isn’t going to suddenly walk away. He doesn’t.

“Not exactly,” Kurt rolls his eyes but this time it’s with at least a bit of affection. “Anyways, I see you leaping over those bleachers. You’re good. So if you ever change your mind...”

“Thanks,” Blaine says honestly. 

“So I’ll see you in band tomorrow?” Kurt waves as he walks away.

“Definitely.” 

Blaine smiles to himself and he takes off on his run.


	2. Chapter 2

The thing with being newly out—at least in his head, to himself—and also secretly sort of excited about it, is that he is suddenly aware of guys in a way that he wasn’t before. Hot guys and cool guys and ripped guys and skinny guys and chubby guys and smelly guys and musical guys. He realizes subtle things that get his attention, like the way Sam gets stubble by the end of the school day, the way the smell of the guy’s locker room—steam mixed with Irish Spring soap and Axe cologne—makes him feel pleasantly woozy as he changes after gym class, the way Mike’s tank top rides up and he can see his abs when he lifts his arms to shoot the basketball—He can already picture the conversations he’ll have with Tina. He just has to tell her. Soon.

And in music class, the awareness is heightened.  He notices the way Jake’s jaw shifts as he plays the flute, the way Mark makes the trombone seem both masculine and elegant, the way Kurt’s eyes both sparkle and focus as he plays the French horn solo.

“What’s gotten into you?” Santana interrupts his trance.

“Oh nothing,” Blaine dismisses. Although part of him wants to sing out the poetry of men in music or the music of men, Santana will definitely not be the first person to hear his sighs. “I just like the piece.”

“Yeah, right.” She isn’t buying it. But to Blaine’s relief, she isn’t pressing either and then practice starts. 

Blaine is distractedly walking into French class later that day, planning the student council bake sale in his head as he plops down at the first empty desk. Beside Kurt Hummel.  _What?_  “Kurt?” Blaine hopes he hasn’t started confusing a daydream with reality. Last he knew Kurt was a senior and they don’t have classes together except band. 

“I wanted to take French,” Kurt says in explanation. “I chose Spanish as my language, but told Principal Figgins last year that I would teach myself French if he let me transfer into it when I was good enough. I just passed the sophomore final exam. So here I am.”  

“Wow,” Blaine is impressed. He taught himself French. Because he likes languages. And he runs. And he is practically a virtuoso on the French horn. He’s gay. And Blaine is now in his French class. He bites back his tongue before he makes a really geeky joke about French and the French horn. Kurt would probably never talk to him again. And  _thank god_  the teacher starts talking before the silence gets awkward.

By the end of the class, Blaine knows that Kurt is actually  _really_  good at languages and that he is deeply thankful for the miracle that is French class and structured conversation. They had to pair up with the person beside them and ask a series of five questions en français. Pas d’anglais. No English. But it’s a get to know you game, disguised as work.

Ta couleur préférée? Burnt orange. Blaine’s is mustard yellow or lavender. They scoff at the team of Puck and Mike and their brilliant answer - blue. What is blue even? Blaine rolls his eyes. Touché. Kurt answers...en français. And he also notices the mustard yellow and turquoise green combination in his bow tie, a bold fashion statement which Kurt says he likes. 

Ta saison préférée? Kurt likes the fall when he can run for miles without being too hot or too cold. And lots of burnt orange, Blaine adds—Kurt smiles. Blaine likes the spring. There’s something so hopeful about the melting snow and the flower buds. “You’re a romantic,” Kurt nods. “I am?” Because he’s never thought about it really.

Ton restaurant préférée? Qu’est ce que tu aimes manger? Kurt dreams of a place where Breadstix isn’t their only option. Blaine says his own fettuccine Alfredo kicks Breadstix’s in the butt. And it’s lower fat. Maybe he’ll make it for Kurt one day, he actually says out loud. Kurt’s eyebrows rise. He looks...impressed.

“I’m gay, you know?” Kurt says in response to the fettuccine invitation.

“So?” Blaine almost sasses. He knows. Of course he knows. But what the hell is Kurt talking about? “I may not be that great at French but I don’t think that’s the answer to the last question.” He tries to lighten it.

“I just don’t get a lot of offers to cook me dinner from guys, lest they think-” Kurt pauses and oh. Blaine nods. He didn’t even think about it, it just felt like the most natural thing.

“Well, I don’t care.” It’s the best Blaine can do right now, and at least it’s honest.

“God last year I thought you were such a homophobe. You couldn’t even look at me when I asked you to join track.” Blaine feels the memory creep to the front of his brain and his eyes go wide because that was  _not_  what was going on at all. 

“No Kurt. I would never-”

“I can be quick to judge,” Kurt nods apologetically.

“I  _really_  don’t care,” Blaine emphasizes again.

“Well then neither do I.” And that’s that. 

Blaine loves French. 

...

Blaine isn’t sure exactly who he needs to thank as he strains the pasta and perfects his roux on Saturday night but he’s pretty sure it’s a combination of Mike Chang, Mme Delacour and Degrassi.

He always watches Degrassi with Tina. Always. Except of course if Mike Chang happens to have asked her on a date for Saturday night. She apologized profusely and checked six times to make sure it was okay but of course it was. He’s a little bummed, but Mike Chang asked her on a date. It’s what she’s been wanting. She might even have her first kiss. He would never deny her that. Never. 

So he walks into French on Friday plotting a Saturday night alone with  order-in pizza, when Mme Delacour leaves them with a paired assignment about their favorite TV shows or movies. They need to write a dialogue and perform it for the class on Tuesday.

“So you want to work on it on Monday?” Blaine asks Kurt as they close their books.

“I have a track meet. I won’t be around from lunch time on. Sorry. Can you work at it on the weekend? If not, I can, I mean - “

“I can,” Blaine says quickly. “My Saturday night plans actually just bailed on me,” Blaine shrugs. 

“Hot date not work out?” Kurt teases totally in jest and Blaine blushes so red but totally not for the reason Kurt thinks.

“No. No hot date. Not for me, at least. My friend Tina is finally going out with Mike. We usually watch-” Blaine pauses, “It’s my guilty pleasure,” Blaine practically whispers.

“Do tell,” Kurt whispers back. “It is the assignment after all.”

“Degrassi.”

“Degrassi?” Kurt nods testing out the idea. 

“It’s actually a really great show,” Blaine starts a bit too enthusiastically, “They deal with all these issues that teens actually face, but that other television shows are too afraid to talk about—or candy coat when they do. Like Ellie had depression because her dad was an alcoholic and she started cutting, Paige got date raped at a party, JT is so smart but he just wants the girls to like him, and last season they even introduced Marco - he’s gay,” Blaine says proudly. He’s beaming actually. And apparently his enthusiasm is infectious because Kurt is beaming at him too. Maybe with a hint of mockery. But just a hint.

“Okay,” Kurt seems to accept the unstated challenge. “I can come over to watch age appropriate actors from the far off country of Canada dramatize teen life while we do our French assignment - “

“So you do know about Degrassi?”

“I do. But I haven’t really watched it.”

“It’ll totally hook you. Trust me.”

“I’m more of a trashy reality type but I’m willing to be persuaded. On one condition-”

“What?” 

“I get the better than Breadstix fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Oh wow. Okay. Deal.”

“I’ll be there at 7.” 

And then Kurt is gone leaving Blaine smiling like a schoolgirl with a crush. Or a school _boy_  with a crush.But not a crush. So why did that feel like flirting? Then Blaine reminds himself that it definitely was not flirting because he hasn’t told even a single person that he’s gay. Least of all, Kurt.

So he has what is definitely  _not_  a date with Kurt Hummel on Saturday night. 

Baby steps.

And tonight those steps include straining the pasta and stirring the roux to the perfect consistency without burning it. He finishes it just as Kurt knocks at the door. 

It’s a nice feeling to see that Kurt’s impressed. He spent the last however many weeks failing to get his attention that it was a relief just to have him crack a smile in civil conversation. He wouldn’t have dared imagine they’d be spending a Saturday evening together watching Degrassi. So what if it’s for an assignment? He made him fettuccine and Kurt is totally into it. He even sort of moaned at how delicious it is. Which made Blaine blush. And part of him realizes that he definitely didn’t blush when Tina drooled over the same pasta sauce. He wants to make the blush disappear, but he also sort of wants to revel in it. 

They take their chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream to the family room so as not to be late for Degrassi. Kurt actually suggested it and this time Blaine was impressed. “You’re totally excited about my guilty pleasure,” Blaine smiles a satisfied smile.

“Shut up, it’s for an assignment.”

“Research,” Blaine agrees.

“Exactly.”

In the first five minutes Blaine has the A plot and the B plot figured out.    He explains that ‘I wanna be hot’ Manny is going to try to convince angelic hippie Emma to hook up with DJ Chris. 

“Sounds very high school,” Kurt shrugs and Blaine admits its not one of the more shocking plot lines. But the B-plot on the other hand. Well, apparently straight and clueless Spinner is worried that newly out Marco has a crush on him. 

“Spinner?!” Kurt throws up his hands. “As if. Marco can totally do better.”

“He has a crush on Paige’s older brother, Dylan,” Blaine informs. “Not on Spinner.”

Kurt looks at him skeptically, “Yes, Blaine. I get it. That’s the point. Clueless straight guy worries that all gay guys can’t resist his stinky armpits and baby fat love handles. Been there. And again, as if.”

Blaine laughs out loud as they settle in to watch Manny sneak out of the house to go to the rave and Marco and Spinner head over to Jimmy’s to study for math and sleep over.

“How ironic, it’s just like us,” Kurt giggles as Jimmy and Marco argue over who’s hotter in the definitely  _not_  parent-approved adult movie the three guys are watching. 

“We are not watching  _porn_ , Kurt,” Blaine shakes his head, blushing again. Also, he is definitely on team Marco, not whatever team Jimmy is on, but he doesn’t say that part.

“I don’t know, Blaine. Marco is pretty cute,” Kurt teases. “If you have a thing for Manny, or maybe Emma—you seem pretty wholesome, so I bet Emma’s you’re girl—then we’re practically Jimmy and Marco shooting the shit on a Saturday night instead of doing our French homework.”

“Not exactly,” Blaine huffs and he feels his heart racing. He’s on team Marco. He  _wants_  to be on Team Marco. Most of all, he wants  _Kurt_  to know that he’s on Team Marco. 

“No?” Kurt looks at him openly, no judgement.

“No,” Blaine says with a calmness that belies the leaping of his pulse. “Kurt, I-” And then it dawns on him, “I know this sounds super weird, but before I—I need to talk to Tina.” Blaine is worried Kurt will be confused at best and annoyed at worst, but to his surprise, Kurt looks at him calmly and nods his head once. 

“I know that’s a totally weird thing to say when we were just watching Degrassi for our French assignment and-”

“It’s cool,” Kurt dismisses, “You don’t need to explain yourself, okay? She’s your best friend. I get it,” Kurt ends the topic. It’s so casual, it’s suspicious and Blaine wonders if he knows what Blaine knows but isn’t going to ask. Which means he must know. But Blaine has to tell Tina first, though he’s not even sure why. It’s partly because it’s Kurt, and Kurt can’t be the only person he’s out to, not when it’s so loaded with possibility. Or at least, he hopes it’s loaded with possibility. He wants it to be. But it’s also because of Tina. He wonders sometimes if she just thinks of him as a sort of clueless late bloomer. No girlfriend yet because he’s just not interested. Never noticed her as a girl because he’d rather play with his Legos. But she also knows him better than that.

They finish their French dialogue over a bowl of popcorn—Blaine’s part sings the praises of teens playing teens and the show’s no nonsense realism, with Kurt bantering back about the importance of the classic musicals, and that no child should grow up without the Sound of Music. 

“I am sixteen going on seventeen,” Blaine hums to himself as he packs up his books.

“Innocent as a rose,” Kurt continues. “Bachelor dandies, Drinkers of brandies, What do I know of those?”

Blaine smiles at him over his shoulder as he puts on his coat and he sees Kurt eye him, daring him to continue.

“Totally unprepared am I, To face a world of men. Timid and shy and scared am I, Of things beyond my ken.” Blaine is smiling wide and blushing profusely at how ridiculous this is. He looks down at his feet, laughing.

“Anyone in music should know every lyric to every song in the Sound of Music. It’s the opus,” Kurt breaks the tension.

“Definitely,” Blaine agrees.

“You should probably go talk to Tina now,” Kurt is figuratively pushing him out the door. Which he knows is a good idea. This night was perfect. It could break with a misstep. He quietly leaves.

Blaine is flying on adrenaline and nerves enough that he doesn’t feel ridiculous until he’s standing outside of Tina’s house at 11pm on a Saturday night, hoping she’s home from her date with Mike. Eleven is her curfew so she should be, and he’s relieved when he sees the light on in her room. He texts her.

Blaine: How was it?

Tina: I don’t kiss and tell.

Blaine: Oh my god, Tina! 

Tina: I know. Holy shit.

Blaine: Well, I’m right downstairs at your door, so maybe you could re-visit that rule?

Tina: What?

Before he has a chance to text back, Tina opens the front door and looks at him confused. She’s in her pajamas - flannel bottoms and a white t-shirt.

“I thought we could talk?” Blaine looks at her, uncertain. 

She looks at him, pausing for a second, and then nods her head. “Of course we can.” It’s almost as if she isn’t surprised. They sit down on her front step, side by side, knees touching. “So you’re jealous of my hot date?” Tina teases.

“No. I’m not-”

“I’m kidding,” She knocks his side.

“How was it really?” Blaine smiles. He’s so happy for her. And for them.

“It was really really good. And I’ll tell you all about it. But you showing up here at 11pm unannounced probably takes precedence - even over the world’s best kiss-” Blaine gives her a huge smile and dorky thumbs up - “So go for it.”

“Well,” Blaine takes a deep breath.“So on Degrassi tonight -”

“Oh my god, right! Degrassi - what happened?”

“So Spinner got all weird thinking Marco had a crush on him.” Blaine proceeds to explain the math studying sleepover, and Spinner’s narcissism and Marco and Jimmy’s adorable argument over which porn star was the hottest. “So Kurt says it’s kind of like us  - he’s on Team Marco, and because I’m so wholesome,” Tina chuckles at that and Blaine scoffs, “I must be on Team Emma.” Blaine stops as Tina contemplates.

“She is pretty cute. I can see it,” Tina nods. “Why do I sense there’s a  _but_  coming?”

“Because I’m not,” Blaine looks down and sees his hands shaking. He looks up at Tina and takes her hand to steady himself. “I’m on Team Marco.” Tina looks at him, mouth open slightly in surprise. “Like Kurt.” Blaine stops. Tina squeezes his hand and pulls him close to her. “Are you going to say something? Are you surprised?”

“I love you, Blaine.” It’s the first thing she says.

“I love you too.” 

Blaine learns that Tina is surprised and not surprised. Not surprised that he’s gay. Surprised that he showed up on her door step on a Saturday night at 11pm to tell her. Surprised that he didn’t tell her sooner. Surprised at how emotional it feels. And he learns that yes, she may have wondered about the two of them and why it never happened.

“So you didn’t just think I was a late bloomer - content to play video games while you dreamed of romance?” He teases curling into her side.

“No way, Blaine. You’re too sexy.” Blaine doesn’t know whether to be embarrassed or proud. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Have you seen yourself play an instrument - piano, trumpet? Or sing?  God - some guy is going to be so lucky.”

“What? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. It’s something in the way you move. Even if it’s not fully out there yet - you have a ‘thing‘ about you. It’s hot.” They had definitely never talked like this before.

“Hot?” Blaine tests out how it feels, “Because of the way I  _move_?”

“Something like that.” 

Blaine pictures Kurt practicing his French horn solo, focused, deliberate fingers moving elegantly over the brass keys. He can see him running - fast, trained, and somehow almost light and ethereal.  _He_  is sexy. He’s never thought of it the way Tina put it - an ‘it’ factor, something physical that get him. “You know, I think that may be how I see -” She looks up at him, eyebrows raised, “Kurt.”

Tina’s smile widens from ear to ear. “Welcome to the world of the rest of us, Blaine Anderson.”

...

All of Sunday feels like it’s waiting for Monday, and all of Monday is wondering what it will be like to see Kurt. Blaine oscillates between relishing the first teeniest bit of a crush on a real person he’s ever allowed himself to have, and berating himself for even thinking of Kurt that way when he hasn’t even told Kurt he’s gay.

They are now friends. Or at least Blaine hopes they are. They can hang out, laugh, they have things in common. It should be the most regular of Mondays in French class. Except that awkward conversation which Kurt seemed to accept without a blink is like a neon sign reminder. Because now that he’s told Tina, all he can think about is telling Kurt. 

Their French dialogue is flawless. The teacher commends them with a ‘Très intéressant!’ and ‘Deux choix très différentes et bien expliqué’. They’re both pleased and Blaine makes a high five under the table for Kurt to return as the teacher turns to the next group. “Good job, Kurt,” Blaine whispers.

“Good job, Blaine,” Kurt high fives him back under the table but his hand lingers just a second too long and Blaine blushes. Or does it even linger? Blaine is sure he’s over-analysing everything now. He just needs to tell him.

“Kurt, can you - ummm - skip your next class?” Kurt looks at him suspiciously. “Sorry, I don’t know. I’m being a bad influence. I shouldn’t have-”

 

“Ha!” Kurt quickly covers his mouth to avoid the teacher’s wrath. “Blaine, you are a bow tie-wearing straight-A student. I’m not too worried about your influence. I can skip a class,” Kurt says under his breath.

“Okay,” Blaine answers with both relief and trepidation.

“Okay.”

At the sound of the bell, they walk quickly out the school doors and quietly over to the bleachers. Or more like, under the bleachers. “This is where I sort of met you last year,” Kurt looks up at the shiny silver stairs above his head. They cast a shadow on Kurt, almost like prison bars.

“Oh god, don’t remind me. I have proper running clothes now.”

“Track team, I’m telling you.” Kurt hints and Blaine just blushes. It’s quiet again. How is he supposed to begin - somehow, “Hey Kurt, I’m gay,” feels too out of nowhere, and “You know I had a realization that I’m on Team Marco that night you saw me running,” seems too long time in coming. The quiet is awkward.

“So I’m assuming we’re skipping class for a reason?” Kurt prompts.

“Yeah,” And Blaine is blushing again. It’s time. “So you remember how we were watching Degrassi and I wanted to talk to Tina?”

“I remember.”

“So I talked to her.” Kurt smiles warmly at that. He knows. He definitely knows. “You know why, don’t you?” And Blaine can hear his voice is shaking and way too emotional. He bites his lip.

“I have a guess,” Kurt looks directly at him. Won’t let him break eye contact. “You can tell me, you know.” He knows he can. He knows there couldn’t be anybody safer. The out and proud Kurt Hummel who he is already friends with. It should be so easy. Which makes the fact that his eyes are stinging even more incomprehensible.

“So I’m gay,” He just says it and the tears start to flow. Kurt nods his head and gently puts his hand on his arm. Just the slightest contact. “God this is so ridiculous. Is it okay that I’m crying?” 

Kurt takes back his arm and laughs warmly, “Oh hunny, I think we all cry.” 

“But I’m not even upset about it. At least not anymore. I mean I know my parents probably won’t be thrilled, but I sort of am.” Blaine giggle sobs from under his tears. 

Kurt smiles widely and whispers, “Welcome to the club. It’s not nearly as bad as some might think.” He feels like he’s conspiring with Kurt about a secret membership. It feels pretty awesome. Definitely not so bad.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Blaine starts once the tears have stopped.

“Well, I had my suspicions. Straight guys usually don’t go after me the way you did-” Blaine’s face turns beet red and Kurt seems to realize the implication,  “Wait. No. I mean. I don’t mean - just not a lot of straight guys want to be friends with me.” Oh okay. He was apparently less than subtle for the last half year.

“But you have lots of friends - Finn, Mike - ” 

“They’re cool and all and at least they don’t throw me into lockers, but we don’t really hang out.”

“Their loss,” Blaine smiles quietly at him. The silence lasts one second too long.

“Also - you wear bow ties. Ding ding,” Kurt breaks it.

“Hey. I thought you said you liked my bow ties.”

“Oh, I love your bow ties.” Now Blaine is definitely blushing, but he feels like it’s in the good way.

The bell rings and Blaine shrugs, “Guess we should actually go to our next class?”

Kurt nods but moves to hug him instead of leaving. Kurt smells like pine and boy and soap and Blaine feels dizzy. “Thanks for telling me, Blaine.” His eyes sting again.

“Don’t make me cry. We have band and I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Okay, Mr. Section Leader. What a stud. Let’s go.”

...

Blaine takes an extra long run home from school that day. He’s listening to the latest Beyoncé CD on his Discman and he feels like he could run forever. He’s gay. He’s out. Or at least he’s getting there and he can imagine himself one day out and proud and marching in parades. He knows that’s not for every gay guy, but for him, it may be - at least one day. He’s passionate about things that mean something to him - his friends, his music, and, as new as the clarity of it is, this new identity, the label—He’s  _gay._ It clicks his world into place.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next week, Blaine manages to come out to his small group of friends  - Mike, Sam, Jake. He spends a few days mulling over how not to make it into front page news, while also not pretending that it’s the back page weather report. Finally, on a Thursday, he has them all sitting outside at lunch time. 

“So you know that Tina and I have been friends for a long time,” He starts, and they look at him blankly except Mike who is slightly suspicious. “Well, have you ever wondered why we were never a thing?” He figures in retrospect that it was pretty good segue. Tina seems sort of honored, though Mike looks a little wary before the big reveal.  “It’s because I’m gay.” Blaine breathes out and waits. The probably four seconds of silence feels like a lot longer.

“That’s cool, man,” Sam is the first to say something but the others nod in agreement. 

“But don’t let me hear you call me ‘That gay guy on student council or I’ll kick your asses.” They all laugh and Mike throws a rolled up ball of plastic wrap at him. 

“No worries, dude,” Jake assures, “You’ll just be the gay guy on trumpet.” That’s when Blaine knows it’s really okay.

Blaine feels light and almost giddy as he walks to band practice later that day. He’s going to kill his solo and then he’s going to run home. Not even Santana’s eye roll and chastisement for being 32 seconds late is going to bother him today.

“I’m gay, Santana,” he says, instead of indulging her snark. He sees her eyes light up with a genuine smile and she even gets out an, “I’m happy for you, Blaine. Really,” before her natural defensive instinct kicks in a minute later. “Finally,” she says under her breath. 

Blaine huffs out a laugh. “I’m not  _that_ obvious.” Although he has a moment of internal pride when he realizes that he doesn’t really care if he is or not.

“No,” Santana agrees. “I just have kickass gaydar.”

“Takes one to know one.” She turns to him and nods with a fist bump. They’ve always had a musical respect for each other, but they’re not in the same grade and they’re not friends so he hadn’t known for sure, but took a risk. Good to know the rumours were true. Secret club. And now he’s a card-carrying member. Membership has its privileges.

Kurt sits down at his music stand just as Mr. Cook directs the warm up. Blaine runs a few scales but keeps stealing sideways glances at the French horn player down the row,  so aware of Kurt’s presence that it has him messing up his entry.  Because the thing about throwing caution to the wind, is that he is suddenly at the mercy of all his misbehaving thoughts. When he gets close enough to him, Kurt smells clean and masculine-sweet, and he is far too fashionable for high school—with scarves, and skintight jeans that leave nothing to Blaine’s already overactive imagination—and his legs are fantastically long. He is  _hot_.  It’s a weird irony that his new found confidence in his own skin only complicates things with Kurt.  And he thought being out was going to make it easier. 

Blaine tries not to be too hard on himself for his slightly distracted band practice. He figures coming out is a significant enough reason for a lack of concentration. He’s still sort of laughing at himself as he puts his music away, when he sees Kurt is standing by the auditorium door and waiting for him. Blaine smiles, but not too widely. “Not my best practice,” Blaine confesses.

“I didn’t even notice,” Kurt shrugs.

“Well, I came out to the gang at lunch today. Think I’m still-”

“Oh my god, Blaine. That’s awesome!” Kurt  leaps forward and pulls Blaine into a hug, and with the heady combination of joy and blushing, it takes him a second to remember to hug back.

“Sorry,” Kurt whispers. “Should I not - it’s too obvious?” 

“No!” Because that is not it at all. It’s actually the opposite of it. “I mean, it’s cool. I don’t mind. I mean-” How do you say wrap your arms around me anytime without sounding totally weird? “I like being out.” Kurt smiles. 

They’re walking and talking as Blaine grabs his running clothes from his locker, done for the day, and he tells Kurt about the non-event event of telling his gang why he’s not dating Tina. Kurt listens and laughs and gets it.

“Hey, do you maybe want to hang out again on Saturday night? Watch Degrassi?” Blaine tempts.

“I’d love to,” Kurt answers quickly but then, “Oh. Saturday? I can’t this Saturday.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Blaine smiles, quickly masking any disappointment. “Another time, then.”

“Yeah. For sure. How about Friday instead? Or Monday after school? I just-” Kurt pauses and Blaine looks at him, “I can’t on Saturday because I-” Kurt drops his gaze sheepishly and whispers, “I have a date.”

A date? Kurt has a date. “A date?” Blaine tries to sound enthusiastic and wishes it didn’t pang in the wrong way.

Kurt giggles and shakes his head. “It’s nothing really. Just a guy from the gay youth group at the Columbus community centre. I hardly know him. I’ve only ever been two times and we’ve only ever had one conversation - about  _sports -”_ Kurt emphasizes, as if too share how ridiculous it all is. “But we finished in agreement that there should be more out gay guys in professional sports and not just high school track teams and then boom!  _Wanna go out on Saturday, Kurt?”_  Kurt just keeps shaking his head and laughing in bewilderment.

Blaine is disappointed. He also knows he shouldn’t be. He and Kurt are friends and he hadn’t even come out to him until a few days ago. Why shouldn’t Kurt date? Of course he should - he’s been out for years, he’s older than him, he’s talented, and smart, and totally hot. It’s probably no big deal for him. And he has a gay guy friend to talk to. He’s definitely not giving that up for some childish crush.

“Why are you surprised? Even if he doesn’t know you that well, I mean, you’re sort of hot. I mean—” Blaine pauses. He so didn’t mean to say that in that way,  “I don’t mean—”

_“_ You think I’m hot?” Shit. Kurt cuts off his accidental rambling.

“I don’t mean—” He repeats.

“You should quit while you’re ahead,” Kurt knocks him playfully in the side as they walk. “I  _am_  pretty flawless.”

“Oh now that you’ve got a hot date, you’re all flawless?”

“I was always flawless.” And Blaine can’t really argue with that. 

...

Blaine just needs to get through Saturday night without thinking too much about what Kurt is doing. With  _George._ Kurt had told him a bit about him yesterday night on the phone. He goes to Saint Simon’s High (it’s always the Catholic school boys), likes football (Kurt does not), has a penchant for cheesy pop music (both he and Kurt can appreciate that), and wants to go to business school when he graduates (shudders). What kind of a name is  _George_  anyways? And it’s approximately half way through that thought that Blaine realizes he’s in trouble. Because of a crush. He is making fun of a complete stranger in his head because he’s potentially making out with Kurt. Which is something Blaine definitely does not want to think about.

“Save me, Tina,” Blaine complains melodramatically. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this pouty before.

“Impressive,” Tina nods as they sit down and flick on the television. “You’re barely out a week and you’ve gone full-on drama queen over a crush.”

“I am not,” Blaine whines and then catches himself. “Well, maybe I’m a bit disconcerted. But how would you feel if your crush—who is also one of your closest friends—went out on a date with someone just after you came out. It’s like poetic justice for not already being out. Or poetic injustice, actually.”

“What would you do if he liked you?” Tina asks nonchalantly. 

“I don’t know,” Blaine looks at the ceiling as if it contains answers. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I can’t let myself think that far ahead. It’s like the first real crush I’ve let myself have,” Blaine sighs.

“Brutal, right?

“Gloriously brutal.”

Tina looks at him, “Degrassi?” She says in sympathy.

“The cure for all things.”

...

Blaine spends too much time on Monday thinking about whether he should ask Kurt about his date. They’re hanging out after school - their first attempt at spending time together with no pretense of some other reason other than being friends. Blaine feels lame for dressing for the occasion, particularly given Kurt’s ‘just went on a date’ status, but he does it anyway. He chooses his purple waffle shirt with horizontal stripes that Tina noticed fit him ‘just so’ as she put it, with his favorite pair of dark blue jeans. Just tight enough to show that he’s been running, but with a cool cuff at the bottom. Penny loafers. No socks. He can totally set the trend. Tina says he’s got style. And  _she_  has style. Can  _George_  pull off penny loafers? Then he laughs at himself for being petty. At least he’s laughing.

“Nice conducting today,” Kurt says as they walk out of band practice together. Mr. Cook had put Blaine in charge of the horns again while he focused on the woodwinds for the first half of the practice. They spend the walk to Kurt’s house musing about the mid-winter concert and whether they’ll be ready. They sharply (but lovingly) judge their peers—Santana gets the ‘bitch-but-can-get-away-with-it-because-talent’ award but also has a heart underneath the spiky exterior and Puck is killer on the sax, but they agree that they could really use a virtuoso clarinet. Then they move on to the seniors in Kurt’s class who are worth his time, and it turns out that Rachel, Kurt’s nemesis and best friend since they were in grade three, has gay dads and Blaine is floored. _And they want to live in Lima?_ They talk about everything from teachers to the badly dated upholstered chairs in the auditorium. The banter is so easy and relaxed that Blaine almost doesn’t notice that the one name that never comes up is  _George_. Almost.

“Hey dad,” They walk into Kurt’s house where Kurt’s dad is lounged in an armchair watching the news. “This is Blaine.”

“Oh, so  _this_  is Blaine,” Kurt’s dad stands up and smiles at him, holding out his hand which Blaine makes sure to shake firmly. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Dad-” Kurt warns.

“You have?”

“Something about a great trumpet player who should join the track team?” Kurt’s dad shakes Blaine’s hand firmly back and smiles at Kurt, pleased with himself. Kurt’s cheeks turn a bright shade of pink and Blaine thinks it’s adorable. 

“Well, I’m not sure about the track part,” Blaine blushes now too, so apparently they’re even. 

“Blaine, this is my dad, Burt,” Kurt finishes. “And we are now going to  remove ourselves to my room to go flip through my fall magazine collection before you can say anything else to embarrass me.” Kurt grabs his arm as they turn to run up the stairs.

“Door open,” Burt calls from the couch and Blaine can hear him chuckle.

“Dad!” Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine dramatically. “It’s not like that.”

“Wait, so he knows that-” 

“That I’m gay,” Kurt smiles at Blaine and shrugs. “Yeah. Since my freshman year.”

“No,” Blaine is still bewildered, “That _I’m_  gay.”

“Oh.” Kurt’s face turns white with guilt, “I hope that’s-, I mean I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry,” Kurt frowns and looks down as they plop on his bed. “I’m not in the habit of outing people really,” Kurt looks for  reassurance, “I was just talking to him about you at dinner and I know he doesn’t care so-”

“No, I’m not upset. He’s cool with it. I’m just surprised. I mean,  I was just told to keep the door open with a guy and god, what’s next? Justin Taylor is going to walk in and sweep me off my feet?”

“You’re watching Queer As Folk?” Kurt raises his eyebrows, amused. 

Blaine swore he was not going to tell anyone about his newest  _incredibly_  guilty pleasure. He rented the DVD of the first season from the video store and has managed to watch it on his computer late at night when everyone is asleep. God, if his parents caught him - not only would he be outed, his parents would get a quick lesson on the ins and outs of sex between men. Between a 29-year-old and an 18-year-old man, specifically. But Justin and Brian are totally meant to be. Blaine knows they are. And Justin’s the wise one, anyways.

“My parents would kill me if they knew-”

“That you were gay or watching Queer As Folk?”

“The latter. And oh god, I hope not the former. Not ready for that yet.”

“You don’t have to be,” Kurt smiles at him and just like that, it’s easy again. “Justin, huh?” Kurt nudges his side.

Blaine looks at him sheepishly, “Yeah. Guess I have a thing for hot, irreverent gay boys who are proud and unafraid.”

Kurt’s eyes go wide and he nods. The air is heavy again and Blaine isn’t sure what to do, flopped out on a bed beside Kurt with nothing to say. “So how was your date with George?” Tension broken. Blaine sighs silently to himself.

“Oh!” Kurt is surprised. “Right. George.” Kurt blushes and shakes his head with a small giggle. “It was good.”

“It was good?” Blaine echoes and hopes Kurt can’t hear his heart racing. “I’m happy for you.” He tries out the words on his tongue, wants them to be true.

“Oh it was nothing, really. We had a good time. We went to Breadstix, gossiped about the gay waiters, went to see a movie-”

“What movie?” That topic seems safe.

“Terminator 3?” Kurt sounds uncertain then laughs. “It was his idea. I mean, it was good but-”

“Not your first choice.”

“Guess I’m more of a silly romantic.”

“I hear _Lost in Translation_  is amazing.” Romantic, mysterious, set in Tokyo—Blaine knows Kurt would love it. He’s just begnning a brief synopsis of what he’s read in the newspaper when Kurt interrupts him.

“So, maybe we could go sometime?” The pause makes it awkward. It shouldn’t be awkward at all. It’s totally meaningless. 

“Of course,” Blaine nods, “Of course.” 

Blaine knows he can get lost in his head, knows he can overthink things. He could just hear Tina sighing as he lay in bed last night trying to figure out if it’s something real he’s feeling. How is he even supposed to know? He’s newly out. He’s excited about it - about guys. About Marco Del Rossi. About Justin Taylor. About Kurt Hummel. And being allowed to admit to himself that they’re cute. Hot. And he has a gay guy friend. It’s too obvious. Too cliché to go after the one gay guy you know. How many men have berated their best friend for trying to set them up with the one other gay guy she met at a party last weekend. On TV it’s always her hairdresser. And Kurt’s dating George. So he’s safe—at least in theory. He can’t have him. And much as he likes Queer As Folk, he isn’t interested in actually being the TV drama love triangle.

So they spend the rest of the afternoon first pouring over Kurt’s impressive Vogue collection and thanking the fashion gods that flannel has finally made its way out of even the GAPpiest of establishments, then watching re-runs of The Bachelor on Kurt’s VCR.

“Oh my god. How does he even focus on more than one of them at a time!” As much as Blaine loves every over-the-top second of trashy reality TV, he still cannot wrap his head around this show’s premise. And Kurt is beside him, laughing so hard that he’s silent.

“I could never-” Kurt shakes his head and wipes his eyes. “A group date!” Kurt’s eyebrows rise up, “What if there was a gay Bachelor? Would you do it?”

“I’m sixteen!” Blaine looks at him skeptically. “I think that would be illegal.”

“No seriously. Would you?”

“No! God no. Am I too young and inexperienced to say that I’m pretty sure I’m a one guy guy?”.

“Silly romantic,” Kurt leans into his side and Blaine lets himself feel the warmth. From Kurt’s touch. From laughing silently. From The Bachelor.

“Guess so.”

...

Friday evening Blaine runs home after school in record time. He has to eat dinner, shower, and pick out clothes for Puck’s party.  He’s having his apparently annual ‘band geeks are cool’ bash while his parents are away at a conference. All of band is invited and, although Blaine opted out last year in favour of Degrassi with Tina, he figures that this year his status as lead trumpet, friendship with Kurt, and vague frenemy-ship with Santana buys him a little credibility. On the down side, Kurt won’t actually be there—he has his second date with George—so Blaine could definitely use a little distraction, and maybe some alcohol. A nice buzz to take him out of his own overly active head would be welcome. And Tina agreed to come with him as long as he agreed to dance with her.

Puck’s house is pretty much the antithesis of Puck. It’s lavish and modern, right out of an Oprah magazine complete with three small and identical single rose vases spotting the living room tables. It’s perfectly anachronistic to see Puck with his Mohawk and leather jacket welcoming in band folks and jocks and random others to his warm, cream coloured house with flowers and Monet prints on the walls.  Blaine shakes his head in disbelief as Puck predictably clasps his hand and slaps him on the back before pointing him and Tina down to his basement. “The lair,” Puck waggles his eyebrows. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, buddy.” Though it inappropriately occurs to Blaine that in other circumstances, he actually might hope to.

They arrive around 10pm - fashionably late – so the party is in full swing and Santana hands him a beer as soon as he descends. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Santana purrs at him while he turns bright red in the dark room.

“Excuse me?” Blaine looks at her, irritated. 

“Oh don’t be so sensitive, stud. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you and our resident gay have suddenly become bff’s.” Blaine hopes Santana doesn’t see him smile before he rolls his eyes at her.

“We’re friends, Santana.You think two gay guys can’t be friends  _without_  benefits?” Santana is only caught off guard for a moment before smiling conspiratorially.

“No, actually. I don’t think two gay guys can be friends without the sex part getting in the way - to quote a famous movie. At least not you and the track star-“

“What?” Blaine is hovering between frustrated and elated.

“Have you seen the way you look at each other?”

“Stop with your conspiracies. I’m barely out—and he definitely doesn’t think of me that way.”

“I don’t think there’s a waiting period on outness, hunny. Have a good night, Blaine.” She winks in a way that Blaine can only describe as pure evil before sauntering off to Brittany’s corner of fortune telling and cookie making. Blaine knows she’s wrong – says all the history of gay and straight people who were ever friends without the sex part getting in the way. But he so badly wants her to be right. Besides, Kurt is on a date. It’s time to let it go.

One and a half beers later, he finds himself dragged into the random group of people creating a makeshift dance floor as Evanescence’s ‘Wake Me Up’ blares through Puck’s high-end speaker system.

“This is a terrible song to dance to,” Blaine protests, but allows himself to be pulled into the crowd and get lost in the music.

“But it’s a great song to make out to,” Tina leans into him mischievously. “So wish Mike didn’t have to go away this weekend,” She sighs dramatically. 

“You’re stuck with me,” Blaine wraps his arms around her as the music thrums and his body  buzzes with beer and rhythm.  _Wake me up inside_. He closes his eyes. Lost.  _Call my name and save me from the dark._

_“_ Blaine!” He’s startled from the loud music by two voices—one is Tina’s warning from in front of him, the other is behind him, over his shoulder. He jumps. 

“Kurt?! What are you doing here?” Blaine’s heart is suddenly pounding as loud as the music.  He’s shocked. He turns from Tina to face Kurt who is inches from him. The music is loud. “You’re on a -”

“Date? We called it an early night. He dropped me off here actually,” Kurt laughs.  “Couldn’t very well miss the ‘band geeks are awesome party’ of the year, could I?” Kurt is talking to him and Tina but looking only at him. He has a pink daiquiri in his hand and is stirring it with a little cocktail umbrella almost nervously. “May I join?” Kurt gestures at the dancing on the makeshift dance floor. And he really did not have to ask. It’s not exactly a ‘by invitation only’ dance floor. But Blaine nods anyways. The combination of a slight buzz and his pulsing heart, with Kurt inches from him in tight black jeans and a bright purple shirt and combat boots smelling like soap and pine and a little bit of sweat is making him dizzy. He closes his eyes.  _Bid my blood to run. Before I come undone._ He feels fingers brushing his. They’re cold from an icy drink that he opens his eyes to see placed on the nearby table. He brushes back. Kurt looks at him, coy and questioning, as Kurt lifts his hands to Blaine’s sides, swaying with the music. Blaine is a good dancer, he has music in his blood, so he mirrors Kurt in a moment of courage that has more to do with alcohol than bravery. He pulls him closer, leg over leg and thinks to himself, “You were just on a date.” Which he apparently says out loud.

“We’re not going out again,” Kurt breathes in his ear so he can be heard above the music. Blaine’s eyebrows rise up in surprise. His heart pounds. He feels euphoric. “We had a good time but-” Kurt pauses, “I wanted to be here instead.”  _Here as in at this party, with his friends? Here as in not with George? Here as in in Blaine’s arms?_  - Because that’s what’s happening. Blaine can feel Kurt’s back muscles moving beneath his hands, his fingers are spread out, holding on.

“You are still a silly romantic,” Blaine stares at him, remembering. 

“Besides, his name is  _George_ ,” Kurt mocks and the tension breaks as Blaine laughs. 

The music blares.  _Now that I know what I’m without, you can’t just leave me._  Kurt takes a deep breath, lifts his arms on to Blaine’s. Blaine feels him shiver.  _Breathe into me and make me real. Bring me to life._ Blaine feels Kurt’s breath on his mouth, they’re so close. He looks at Kurt’s lips, as Kurt’s tongue peeks out fleetingly and he bites his lower lip. Kurt whispers “Can we get out of here?”  _Wake me up inside._

Blaine nods even though he’s shaking, desire and adrenaline and alcohol muting his inhibitions. He doesn’t even know where they’re going but they walk upstairs to the pink walls and Monet prints and perfect vases, looking around for somewhere to go.  They find a nook of a powder room and walk-in coat closet close to the front door. 

“Is it totally uncouth to kiss you in a closet of all places?” Kurt giggles, tugging gently on Blaine’s fingers.

“Better than a bathroom,” Blaine says “And I can appreciate the irony.” He feels like he’s watching himself be witty. The other part of him is standing,  stunned, about to walk into a closet where Kurt Hummel has just said he wants to kiss him. There are winter coats and boots and hats on each side of the closet, blanketing them as they stand in the middle and Kurt closes the door. Save for the light creeping in from the hallway underneath, it is pitch black. Kurt gasps.

“I didn’t think about how dark it would be,” He breathes close to Blaine again, feeling for his fingers and pulls him closer. He can feel Kurt shaking. He’s shaking too.

“Seven minutes in heaven?” Blaine breathes out to break the tension as he feels Kurt’s breath get closer. It doesn’t work. 

Then it happens. Kurt’s mouth finds his in the black and they’re kissing.  Kurt’s lips are soft and warm and tentative at first. But Blaine is not tentative. He’s sure and holds him close, trying to pretend he knows what he’s doing so Kurt won’t let go, will want to do it again. Their kiss deepens and he tastes Kurt’s lips - pink fruity drink and something so sweet and sexy. Kurt tastes amazing and Blaine moans. Kurt pulls back.

“Sorry god. I didn’t mean to sound like-”

“No,” Kurt’s eyes are glistening in the dark, his lips wet from Blaine. He’s irresistible. “Don’t apologize for that. How drunk are you?” Kurt cocks his head to the side.

“Not that drunk.” One and a half beers an hour ago is enough for a buzz, but he’s pretty sure the situation is what has him off balance.

“Are you going to remember this in the morning?”

Blaine laughs out loud, “I better. Or that would be a waste of a pretty epic first kiss.” He looks down shaking his head. It’s not like Kurt doesn’t know. He just came out.

“Tell me about it.”

“For me, you mean?”

“No. I mean for me.” Kurt is blushing. And Blaine isn’t quite believing what Kurt seems to be saying.

“But you and George? And you’ve been out for-” Kurt was just on a second date. 

“That doesn’t mean I’ve-” Kurt huffs, “I haven’t, okay?”

Blaine feels himself swooning and knows it’s not just the alcohol, “Definitely okay.”  Whether its  the combination of Kurt’s honesty and the safety of the darkness, or his beautiful eyes and strawberry daiquiri tinged lips, the moment feels weighted with so much possibility. Blaine stares at him, amazed, in the dim light of the cramped space, puts both his hands on Kurt’s face and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. And Kurt kisses back. They push in closer and Blaine can feel the contours of Kurt’s body - their thighs pushing into each other’s, his biceps wrapped around Blaine’s back, the breathing in and out of his stomach. He can feel that they’re both turned on and part of him feels like he should be embarrassed. But he’s not. He feels strong and physical and alive. Like he finally knows what all the fuss is about.

...

Blaine thought the hard part would be re-entering the party without being too obvious. Because Kurt wouldn’t want to be obvious - would he? He was high on adrenaline and kiss stained lips and Kurt, leaving him with a severe lack of calm, but somehow, on the outside, he manages. Kurt manages. They both return with a coke in hand and join Tina on the dance floor. They all toast to the night of fun, but in Blaine’s head it’s to Kurt, to kissing, to being alive, to himself. Tina, the designated driver, drives him home. And he doesn’t tell her. He doesn’t even know why. Somehow it feels sacred right now. Only for him and Kurt and his body to know. So he kisses her on the cheek and exits the car.

The hard part, it turns out, is sleeping. After brushing his teeth, flossing as always, and washing his face with his CK One face wash, he lies down—but there is no sleep. Instead there is Kurt in his head, giggling as he leads him into the closet, his little breathy sounds as the kisses get deeper, less shy, and give into the darkness. He can still feel Kurt’s slight stubble tingling his lips. He’s turned on and he gives in to the feeling, thinking of Kurt and him together, wrapped around each other but with far fewer clothes than were in the coat closet. But even when he’s done, kleenexes stuffed safely into the garbage can beside his bed, his smile is plastered on his face and his blood rushes in his veins. He wants to text Kurt about all the things he’s feeling but that would be totally uncool. So he stares up at the ceiling, the taste of pink daiquiri a perfect memory on his lips.

Blaine somehow makes it until Sunday night without telling Tina, holding his secret inside himself while he visits his Great Aunt Rose, practices piano, dries the supper dishes. But with giddiness still in his system, his homework done, and sleep still elusive, he calls Tina late on Sunday evening and without even saying hello, he blurts out “I kissed Kurt”. Her high pitched squeal is a perfect harmony to his restless euphoria and they laugh as he tells her briefly of Kurt’s last date with George (thank god), the music and the dancing to which she was a witness (he was pretty bold for someone so green), and kissing in the closet—Tina  _howls_  at that. And although he’d felt like he’d been in a dream-like trance for most of the weekend, unsure whether to believe it really happened, somehow talking to Tina makes it  _real_. 

She meets him outside the school with a coffee on Monday morning, grabs him and squeals again like on the phone. “Shhhh Tina. You’re going to embarrass me.”

“Oh don’t be embarrassed. He’s hot!” 

“Shhhh, seriously. And yes, I know he’s hot. But seriously, I don’t want to make a big deal about it.” They’re at his locker, grabbing books for his morning classes.

“It is a big deal,” Tina insists. “Your first kiss. With a guy you’ve liked for a while. In a closet. Pretty epic,” Tina’s excitement makes him giddy all over again but he catches himself.

“Yes, well. Everyone hooks up at parties. Especially Puck’s parties. With all that alcohol. It doesn’t mean anything,” He tests the hypothesis on his lips but he doesn’t really believe it.

“Whatever you say,” Tina shrugs, unconvinced as she heads off to art class, Blaine to math.

As she walks away, he turns and spots Kurt across the hall. He smiles. But Kurt is frozen and looking at him. When he makes eye contact, Kurt doesn’t smile. In fact, he’s icy. Blaine’s heart sinks into the floor. Before he can even say hello and figure out what is going on, Kurt quickly turns down the hallway and disappears.

...

Blaine is devastated and Monday feels like the longest most treacherous day of his life. And he is not even being melodramatic. Mostly because he has no idea what is going on and Kurt is clearly avoiding him. Instead of doing his homework in math class, he tries to take apart every minute of their interaction on Friday night, trying to figure out if he misinterpreted something. Kurt led him to the closet, told him he wanted to kiss him and the kissing was spectacular. Well, Blaine thinks it was and he’s pretty sure from Kurt’s own reactions that he wasn’t imagining things. They went back to the party and stayed close the rest of the night, more subtle, but he even managed to kiss him goodbye on the cheek and Kurt had smiled. His eyes had sparkled. Now, Blaine isn’t one to jump to conclusions about how someone is feeling—especially about him and especially in  _that_  way—but he was pretty sure they both had a great time. The only thing he can come up with is that he was supposed to call him over the weekend and he didn’t. He clearly doesn’t know the rules, and Kurt won’t talk to him. But then why didn’t Kurt just call  _him_?  And now he has band practice, where he’s going to have to spend an hour watching Kurt avoid eye contact while he inevitably messes up his section he’s so distracted.

“Looks like you and gay number one were getting along pretty well on Friday night,” Santana sits down at their music stand and is just exactly the person that Blaine doesn’t want to deal with right now.

“Yes, well, now he’s not talking to me so I guess your theory about our destiny is off,” Blaine huffs. “And can you stop calling him or us or whatever, names? I’m not gay number two or whatever you were thinking.”

“Oh someone’s in a bad mood,” Santana raises her eyebrows. “People hook up at parties, Blaine. It’s not a big deal.” Blaine shakes his head, hearing his own words on Santana’s lips. 

Then it dawns on him. Kurt heard him. Kurt was right there. Blaine feels a combination of mortified and relieved because Kurt probably doesn’t regret what happened—or, well, he didn’t before this morning. Probably.

The problem is that Kurt won’t talk to him. And Kurt is nothing if not determined in his feelings. Blaine remembers the level of effort that he had to put in just to get Kurt to give him more than a curt nod this year - quick judgement, little interest. And now the judgement isn’t just disinterested, it’s  _angry_. 

He waits by the exit doors from the auditorium for Kurt to pass through but Kurt deliberately uses the second door that Blaine isn’t holding open and moves past him as swiftly as a gazelle. In French, Blaine hopes to sit beside him to at least pass him a note asking him to talk but Kurt is already there and sitting across the room beside someone neither of them knows very well. By the end of the day, they haven’t said a word, though he’s had the chance to explain the situation to Tina who is emphatic that he has to corner him.  

Finally, he waits by Kurt’s locker at the end of the day so that Kurt can’t avoid him, as ridiculous as he feels.  Only, as Kurt comes around the corner and sees him, he promptly turns on his heels. Blaine jumps in front of him, hands up in defense. “Just give me five minutes, Kurt.” Blaine is pretty close to begging and he thinks that must be entirely unattractive.

“I have to go running,” Kurt huffs but at least he doesn’t move. 

“But you don’t have track today?” It’s ridiculous that Blaine knows his schedule, but he does.

“You know my schedule?” Kurt’s expression is somewhere between indignant and pleased. Blaine throws his hands up in defeat and he hopes it conveys ‘of course’. But Kurt turns icy again, “I need to run every day. Meet’s coming up. I’m running home.”

“Great. I am too. We can run together.” Blaine hopes he has him now, but Kurt is shaking his head. “Please Kurt. Just hear me out. We’ll run and if at the end you’re done with me, then fine.”

“Fine,” Kurt sighs. “Meet me in five minutes, ready to go.” 

Blaine runs to make sure he’s there on time and gets there exactly two minutes before Kurt, who is already running when he jogs past him, “Let’s go,” Kurt huffs, and takes off. It takes Blaine a second to catch up and another minute for them to fall into a pace beside each other. Kurt is silent and not looking at him.

“So I think you overheard my conversation with Tina at a really unfortunate time-” Blaine tries.

“Really? Because I think the truth is rather fortunate, don’t you?” Kurt is fierce and cold. 

“Yes, actually. I do,” Blaine sighs in desperation. “Which is why-” He plows on despite Kurt emphatically shaking his head beside him, as if to ward off his words. “-I wish you had heard the first part of the conversation.”

“What else is there to hear, Blaine? Like you said, everybody hooks up at parties. It was just a hook up. Just because you’re gay, doesn’t really make you all that different, does it?”

“You know that’s not me, Kurt.”

“Guess I have poor judgement.”

Blaine’s heart is pounding from running, and emotional exhaustion, but he is not going to lose his ground and Kurt shows no signs of slowing. “What I think you have, Kurt, is quick judgement. You’ve been wrong about me before, you know? Not to toot my own horn-”

“You’re good at it.” God Kurt’s being impossible.

“Enough, okay Kurt. If you really want nothing to do with me, that’s fine. But what I thought you should know was that I spent the night before telling Tina how happy I was that we -  _you know_  - because she knows how much I like you -  _Yes_ , I like you, okay? And on Monday, I was telling her to play it cool because I didn’t know how  _you_  felt. Because you know, everyone hooks up at parties,” Blaine echoes himself.

“You didn’t know how  _I_  felt?” Kurt’s voice is still dripping with sarcasm but Blaine hopes he detects a mix of genuine confusion too.

“You didn’t call,” Blaine answers.

“You didn’t either.”

“Well, I’ve never done this before. You know that. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was.”

“I thought I told you that I hadn’t either.”

“Yeah,” Blaine shakes his head, looks down at the ground whizzing by beneath them. “I’m still having a hard time believing that.”

“Why?” Kurt isn’t fishing, he’s defensive. “I’m only a year older than you. And it’s not like McKinley’s exactly a gay prom.”

Blaine laughs at that and their pace has slowed somewhat so he can catch his breath. “It’s because you’re so hot, actually.” He flushes the minute he says it and wants to take it back.

“What?” Kurt slows to a stop, turns and looks at him. He stops, panting. 

“So now you probably never want to talk to me again because I am totally lame. But at least you don’t think I’m an asshole.”

“Wait what?”

“For me, it wasn’t just a hook up. I think I noticed you before I even realized I was gay, and I had a crush on you since long before I told anyone. So I got to kiss my crush. Who also happens to be my only gay friend. So anyways, there it is.”

“Blaine, you are like the opposite of lame,” Kurt rolls his eyes affectionately. Then he laughs suddenly—it’s high and warm and gives Blaine goosebumps despite his jogging sweat. “I actually thought you were too cool—that you used me for an experimental hook up in the absence of more options.”

“Now that  _would_  be lame,” Blaine shakes his head. They’re looking at each other now. Kurt’s eyes sparkling and lips quirked up in an almost smile and Blaine figures that after this roller coaster of a day it’s worth the risk. “But-” he starts, “ I wouldn’t mind using you for an experimental date on Saturday night. You know, if  _George_  doesn’t mind.”

Kurt smacks him playfully on the arm, “Don’t make fun of George. Just because I can’t quite imagine screaming in ecstasy the name of a curious monkey or a tree swinging nomad-”

“But  _Blaine_ , on the other hand-”

“We’ll have to see,” Kurt blushes, but takes his two hands in his. Finally. Contact. Smiling. Blaine breathes out in relief, as he watches their fingers interlacing. 

“I’d like to kiss you now, if that’s okay?” Blaine manages.

“I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.” The kiss is tame and salty and sober. Blaine thinks it’s perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

The problem is that Blaine is good at faking confidence. In fact, he’s worried that he’s too good at it because really, he has so many questions but he doesn’t know how to start the conversation.. Instead he’s cool as a cucumber. At least on the outside.

Blaine knows that it’s been exactly fifteen days and seventeen hours since they first kissed, knows that they’ve had four coffee dates in which they shared a cupid cookie three times (the other time Kurt opted for a biscotti),knows that Kurt smiles whenever he sees him and that he always saves him a seat in French. Blaine also knows that even though they’ve kissed exactly nine times in those fifteen days, including twice on the cheek, it’s never quite approached the intensity of that first night in the closet. And he knows that he wants it to. And maybe more. He’s a healthy almost-seventeen-year-old boy. But instead of trying to talk about it, he knows he pulls back. They both do. It seems easier to quip about the possibility of Kurt’s dad walking in, or worse Blaine’s oblivious parents, even though no one is expected home, than to get real. 

The irony is that when they finally have a conversation and, well, as a result things actually happen, Blaine realizes that his luck or courage once again has to be credited to Marco Del Rossi. 

The Saturday night about a month after Puck’s party is Marco and Dylan’s first date. It’s not, however, Kurt and Blaine’s first date—in fact they established at coffee date number  _three_  that Blaine would not feel at all uncomfortable, and would probably feel a little bit proud if Kurt Hummel were to tell his track team friends that Blaine is his boyfriend. So when Blaine gets the spoilers that Marco and Dylan’s first date is happening, and that there might even be an on screen kiss—two teenage boys kissing on Prime time television!—he immediately calls Kurt. He is so swept up in excitement that he forgets to play it cool.

“I don’t know whether I’ll be more entertained by two boys kissing on TV or  _my_  boyfriend squealing in fangirl delight.”

“Boys can be fanpeople too!” Blaine pouts and Kurt giggles. “So does that mean you’ll come?”

“Of course I’ll come. I’m not going to miss a gay watershed moment on television out of my own sense of superior pride. I know when to give in.”

So it’s settled. They’re originally set to watch it with Tina and Mike but Tina changes plans at the last minute, maybe sensing Blaine’s unspoken wish to watch this one alone with Kurt. He promises to record the episode and they’ll watch it again (and again) next week. So it’s a date. With Kurt. Alone at his house without parents. 

Kurt arrives on Saturday night in Blaine’s favorite painted-on black jeans and a short-sleeved, starch-pressed, white button-down with a skull and crossbones broach. Blaine opens the door and lets his eyes roam to biceps and quads and Kurt’s mouth. He looks amazing.

“Wow,” Blaine breathes out and finally looks up to meet Kurt’s eyes. “It’s no wonder you come with a warning,” Blaine quips eyeing the broach. Kurt bites his lower lip and blushes and Blaine wonders again if he said too much. 

“You wore a bow tie,” Kurt smooths the red plaid bow tie with his fingers and Blaine tries to calm his nerves and just enjoy the feeling of Kurt’s eyes on him.

“Marco’s first date,” Blaine smiles in explanation and leads him into the family room.

“But not ours.” Blaine thinks he detects something meaningful in the obvious but he isn’t sure.

“No, not ours.”

Blaine has prepared homemade chocolate covered strawberries and little tea light candles. “I know it’s cheesy,” Blaine apologizes. “But also romantic?” He adds hopefully.

Kurt is shaking his head but grinning from ear to ear. “You made these?”

“It’s not hard, really. Just melt semi-sweet chocolate chips in a little bit of milk and dip in the strawberries. Let them harden and then  _voilà_   - I mean, I’m sure that’s not how the chocolatiers do it but-”

“It’s  _very_  romantic,” Kurt beams and lifts one to his lips. He looks more delicious than the chocolate melting on his fingers and Blaine hopes there is an intentional tease when he licks his own finger into his mouth but again, he isn’t sure. And it’s time for Degrassi anyways. They settle in beside each other on the couch and Kurt holds out the rest of the strawberry for him to bite. He does. And risks sucking the tip of Kurt’s index finger into his mouth. Kurt smiles and blushes and Blaine feels his insides swoop happily. 

Blaine’s own nerves and wants and fears are then completely overtaken by  22 minutes of flawless television. The first perfect thing is that not only does Marco’s formerly homo-fearful friend, Spinner, play matchmaker, convincing Dylan that Marco is ready to go out on a date with him, but he also helps him get ready for the date. “I love Sam. But I’d never let him pick out my outfit before a date. Honestly,” Blaine chuckles.

“What about Tina?”

“Oh, of course I would. Tina’s got style. She helped me pick out this bow tie, actually.”

“Mmmm,” Kurt nods in approval. “So you really did plan ahead for Marco’s first date.”

Blaine looks at him incredulously, “It’s not Marco I’m trying to impress.” Kurt’s cheeks pinken before they turn back to the TV just as Dylan knocks on the door.

The TV date is nothing short of a disaster. But at least Marco’s parents don’t show up before what Kurt dubs ‘the most important handholding scene in all of television’. While they watch Marco peeking hopefully at Dylan’s hand as the two boys watch a Zombie movie (Kurt and Blaine would never), and the thrill and euphoria  on Marco’s face when Dylan finally takes his hand, they look at their own interlaced fingers, as Blaine takes his other index finger and traces it slowly along the top of Kurt’s hand. “We’re lucky,” he whispers, and Kurt smiles tucking into his side.

Marco, like Blaine, is out and proud—but not to his parents. So it comes as no surprise that running into his parents on his date, and then being dragged with Dylan out to dinner, while his parents encourage Dylan to help Marco score a girlfriend, puts a bit of a damper on the mood. Blaine groans. Kurt hides behind Blaine’s back in second hand embarrassment. It is a perfect comedic television trope. It’s brutal. And it’s not until after the commercial break in school the next day that Marco faces Dylan and realizes that Dylan gets it. And he doesn’t care. He likes him. And he is going to kiss Marco behind the fence of Degrassi on a weekday morning. Kurt and Blaine squeeze each other’s hands and try to hold in their squeals.

“I knew you’d love it!” Blaine exclaims in victory.

“Oh come on. Just because I’m not a crazed fanboy doesn’t mean I’m immune to two teenage boys kissing on television.” Blaine is pleased to see that Kurt is as dazed by the spectacle as he is.

“Even though it was a pretty tame kiss,” Kurt has to add.

“It’s true.  _Our_  first kiss was hotter.”

“Mmmm,” Kurt hums and leans into Blaine for a soft open kiss that Blaine hopes is suggesting more. The episode is over with just commercials as white noise in the background. And Blaine is acutely aware, again, that things have never become quite as heated as they were that first night with darkness and alcohol and thighs between legs and bodies flush, and also how much he wants them to be. And more. But he’s distracted. Even though he’s not worried  that his parents, who are away on a business trip, are about to cramp his style.

“Do you think it’s lame that I haven’t come out to my parents?” 

“Lame? No,” Kurt side-eyes him, more for ruining the mood than the question Blaine thinks. “You’ll do it when you’re ready,” Kurt shrugs.

“I know.  It’s not that I’m that afraid even,” He sees Kurt looking at him, open and listening now,  “I know they won’t be thrilled but I also know they’ll come around.  The head surgeon of my mom’s general surgery team is a lesbian.”

“Nothing like a lesbian boss to help pave the way,” Kurt nods. 

“But coming out to them? I don’t know… it just feels so…  _fraught_. You know? Like it has to be this big serious thing with tears and big life discussions-”

“Oh god I know.”

“Exactly. Like I feel like such a teenage cliché but I’m more focused on wanting to…  _you know…_  with you than having to go through an identity crisis with my parents. I’m not  _having_  an identity crisis.” When Blaine looks up Kurt’s eyes are sparkling and his cheeks are the most beautiful shade of sudden pink.

“You are definitely not having an identity crisis,” Kurt agrees and Blaine sees mischief behind his eyes.

“No,” and now Blaine’s blushing but he’s not even sure why. “I’m gay.”

“Yes,” Kurt nods. “And I  _don’t_ know, by the way.”

“What?”

Kurt takes a deep breath, “You said you’re more focused on wanting to  _you know_  with me-”

“Oh.” Now Blaine knows why he’s blushing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Kurt huffs in response and seems almost irritated.

“No. You  _should_  have.” Blaine looks confused. 

“I should?”

“Blaine, didn’t you like what happened with us in the closet?”

Blaine bites back his laugh, “Uh yeah? When I say that I’m spending time  _not_  thinking about coming out to my parents, that’s pretty much what I  _am_  thinking about. And also-,” Blaine blushes.

“Also what?”

“Also… more?” It comes out as a question and Blaine feels guilty the second he says it.

“Me too, Blaine.” Oh.  _Ohhh_. Kurt’s cheeks are crimson but his eyes are sparkling and happy as he takes Blaine’s hand in his between them.

“You do?”

“Well, I think about it, yes. I mean, I  _am_  a seventeen-year-old guy.”

Blaine  _really_ wants to understand where this is going. Is this a confession that they think about each other like  _that_ , or a confession that they might actually want to  _do_  some of  _that_?

“Oh… yes. Me too. I think about it. Of course. I mean-” Blaine looks down to collect himself and makes a decision. If he actually does want to do some of that—and he  _does_ —then he has to be able to actually talk about it. And he is pretty sure that if there’s no talking at all, then there won’t be any  _doing_. “I mean, yes, I’d be interested in trying… more. If you want to.   _Is_  that what you meant? Oh god, I’m probably way off base but-” 

“You’re kind of hot when you’re nervous,” Kurt giggles squeezing his hand.

“I just ruined the mood, didn’t I?”

“Nope,” Kurt teases and leans into him for a soft kiss. “And yup, I do. Want to try, I mean.”

“You do?” 

“Mmmhm.” Kurt is looking at him half shy, half flirty, entirely irresistible. And he knows it. Blaine can see he knows it. Damn him.

“Like now?”  

“Like now,” Kurt answers simply. Before Blaine can over think and over talk and ask any questions about details, they’re kissing and kissing. And he thinks now would be a  _really_  good time for his fake confidence to kick in because he has no idea what he’s doing or where it’s all going. 

Then Kurt is playfully pushing him backwards on the couch and, oh  _this_  is where it’s going—finally. Kurt’s body is strong and broad and half on top of his. He can feel his breaths move in and out against his stomach, the weight of his runner’s legs, and his neck, long and soft and open. Blaine turns and pulls him closer, breathing him in and letting himself kiss and taste wherever Kurt’s skin appears. Kurt moans and the sound shoots through Blaine as they move against each other. They’re hard, beneath layers of well-coordinated, now rumpled shirts and too tight jeans, and Blaine loves the feeling. And he guesses that Kurt does too, because Kurt’s hands are suddenly on his ass, firm and solid and pulling Blaine into his body. His hormones are all over the place and he feels like a kid in a candy store—although no, not a kid at all—and Kurt’s body and skin under his hands—now trailing under Kurt’s chest, on his chest, his nipples—is way better than any candy he’s ever tasted. And Kurt’s hands squeezing him and pushing their bodies together makes him lose all sense of civility or coherence and he moans in a way he only ever has before when his house is empty and he’s alone with the internet. 

“Is it too much?” Kurt pulls back his hands as if he’s burned but Blaine is so far gone he just shakes his head and tries to breathe.

“Definitely not too much. Except-”

“Except I should have kept my hands above the belt. Or asked at least. Or-”

“No. No,” Blaine blushes. “You sort of  _did_  ask and I like surprises. And I’m a big boy. I promise I’ll say something if I don’t want it.” There’s his fake confidence again. But somehow it feels more real this time. “But - what I meant was - except that if we keep it up, I’m going to um - ruin my jeans?” He tries.

Kurt’s face goes hot and he bites his lower lip but he looks proud. Kurt Hummel is proud that he’s turning him on. “I sort of want you to,” Kurt says and quickly looks down. Blaine is trying to formulate a response that will be equally sexy and cool and not a hint giving away to his desperation to say yes but his nerves are taking over and his mouth just opens without words so Kurt continues, “I mean not the jeans part specifically. They are very nice jeans and I would never forgive myself if I were responsible for their ruin.” Kurt is smiling down at him, all sparkling and shy.

“So we should take them off?” 

“I think so, yes. If you want to, I mean-”

“I want to. Both of us?” All is fair in love and war.

“Both of us.”

Getting there is slightly awkward. Kurt sits up and they each turn away, yanking off pants and belts and shirts as quickly as they can. Blaine is completely hard and boxer briefs leave nothing to the imagination, but it’s okay because he risks a glance as Kurt lies back down on top of him, and Kurt is too. He is beautiful—the lines defining the muscles of his chest, the goosebumps and peaked nipples that betray his shivers, his legs that go on forever. Lying here, with Kurt almost naked and on top of him, Blaine wonders if every person feels this way their first time with the right person. Because Kurt is his right person. 

It’s hot and desperate and scary and simple and sexy all at the same time. And it’s going to be over before he wants it to be. Kurt looks down at him and into his eyes as he pushes down into Blaine, lining them up and chasing the feeling. He stares at Blaine as he does it. Intent. That’s the sexiest part. And Blaine hears his breath turn into gasps of ‘unh unh unh’. And then he’s coming. With Kurt. Blaine is sure it’s the best 32 seconds of his life.

Kurt is flopped on top of him, both of them catching their breath and coming down when Blaine starts to feel  sticky and just a bit uncomfortable. “Kurt?” He so does not want to move, but he also definitely does.

“It’s so gross. I know. I know,” Kurt sighs into Blaine’s shoulder. They’re both giggling now. “We can go up to your room to clean up?” Blaine groans at the idea of moving, but they do get up and grab their clothes from where they were strewn over the couch, and sprint self-consciously from the family room to Blaine’s bedroom to unstick from their underwear.

Without even thinking about it, Blaine throws Kurt a pair of old flannel boxers. “You think I wear flannel?” Blaine turns around to Kurt, shirtless in his white sticky boxer briefs, flirty and sassy and confident. 

“It’ll be our little secret.” Blaine winks and turns back around to find himself a clean pair of boxer briefs. “I can change in the washroom,” He says nonchalantly, making his way over to the door.

“Wait, no.”

“No?”

“Stay.”  Kurt turns to him, holding Blaine’s flannel boxers in one hand and he has goosebumps again. “Stay.”

Blaine turns so he’s facing him too, wants to be sure. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Then Kurt takes a deep breath, turns around, and takes off the offending briefs, leaving Blaine staring. Blaine knows that Kurt knows that he’s staring. At his ass. The realization courses through him—Kurt wants him. Kurt wants to be naked with him and he really wants to be naked with Kurt. Despite nerves and first times and imperfect communication, they have arrived here and they want the same thing. So Blaine quickly takes off his own underwear and walks up behind Kurt. He takes his own deep breath and puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder blade, and lets his other hand cup Kurt’s ass - soft and cool and round. Kurt’s ass is amazing. 

“You’re so hot,” Blaine whispers into his ear. And Kurt turns around and  tangles their fingers together, letting his eyes trail down Blaine’s now completely naked body. Blaine closes his eyes and lets the rush wash over him, breathes through the nerves and stays in the excitement. When their eyes meet Kurt simply nods as they climb together onto Blaine’s bed and wrap themselves around each other’s bodies. For more sex, probably. Eventually. But for now, purely for the feeling of skin on skin, of body parts together, and of the warmth and closeness of  _boyfriends_. Blaine traces Kurt’s face and lips with his index finger. 

He is proud. 

...

Kurt gets him in a vulnerable moment and finally convinces him. He’s in a post-sex haze feeling happy and physical and sexy, and Kurt could probably ask him to harvest honey despite his fear of bees and he’d say yes. So when he does ask him to run hurdles in next week’s track meet, he agrees. Though he makes sure that Kurt will still take him out next weekend, even if he places last.

“I’ve seen you do it, Blaine,” Kurt insists at the practice before the meet. “You’re not going to place last.”

“I’m only doing this because there was no one else who runs hurdles on the team.” But Blaine knows that’s not totally true, it’s just that his defense mechanisms always kick in when he’s taking a risk. And he’s never ever considered himself an athlete. But, it turns out that spending the better part of a school year running home from school, leaping over bleachers and benches has its benefits.

The day of the track meet, he’s warming up with Kurt and Jake, when he sees Tina, Mike, and Sam settling into front row seats in the bleachers. “Oh god, I hope they didn’t also bring a sign,” He whispers to Jake, but he’s secretly beaming. 

His event is one of the last events, after Kurt has won the silver medal in his long distance run, after some of the spectators have left—but not his friends, and not Kurt. When the whistle blows and he takes off, leaping over the first hurdle, he hears Tina and Sam in the background woohoo-ing and whooping. He can see Kurt’s excited clapping across the course at the finish line where he’s waiting for him. But it’s all in the periphery. At the core, he feels his body running and flying easily over the barriers. He moves like it’s a muscle memory of his year, from his aching, protesting muscles when his body was first startled out of its denial—like a shock of ice water, he was so unprepared then—to the easy groove of his daily runs and his now slightly defined muscles craving the movement and the rush. When he crosses the finish line and the bronze medal is draped around his neck, he’s enveloped and embraced by a sweaty and ecstatic Kurt and an exuberant Tina and Sam, both of whom seem to be muttering something about ‘unreal’ and ‘superstar’. He puts his arms around Kurt and Tina, the adrenaline still rushing through him, and completes the circle.


End file.
